I wrote this in my journal on my last night in Pana. I found Pana a hard place to be. A piece of paradise and very affordable for foreigners, the town was founded purely on an expat and tourist economy. The life of many locals is based on getting enough money to feed themselves by selling whatever they can. Also known as Gringotenango it is a small place - around 11,000 including the outlying communities - yet there are plenty of bars, prostitutes, alcoholics and drugs. Wife beating is a problem among some poverty-stricken Mayan men who are drug-addicted. Pana has seen its heyday and is going through a difficult time. Being there made me question how the dreams of people drawn here for the good life have shaped its destiny over the last few decades. It is cynical and provoking but nevertheless I decided to post it here...
Tonight I am wondering why I am travelling. People in Pana is searching, searching, just like everywhere else. What did I think I would find here? Or find travelling anywhere?
It is what is inside that matters, after all, as always.
Perhaps seeing the Mayan ruins will help me access a deeper place. Here I feel nothing but my inner peace disturbed...by the plight of the Maya people, the now-toxic lake, the gringos here for the good life.
Whatever was here 30 years ago is lost. People are hanging onto an empty shell. The beauty is still here but is marred by inequity, mob anger, the polluted lake and a corrupt government.
The wonders that I had expected here - where are they? In the the endless piles of factory weaving? In the hard eyes of the Maya? In the lonely seeking eyes of the grey-haired men at the bar? Or the young foreigh residents who are big fish in a small pond, fed on idealism and opportunity? Their status is reflected in their height, skin colour, language and bank accounts. How easy to feel gratuitous, how easy to ride on a myth and a dream.
The irony of yoga retreats in San Marcos and crystal psychics when stray dogs are being kicked in the streets, luxury homes built into prime lakeside properties while thousands of tin-roofed crumbling shacks hide much higher above...
Where is the dignity in being here? Or anywhere? I am suddenly all for holidays that involve peace, beauty and solitude...There´s far more to be said for comfort and peace of mind than I ever felt before.
Is the life I´m living any better or worse than this? Did I think I would see something here that is more real, more beautiful, more perfect? Perhaps.
I seek peace within myself. The restlessness I see here is a reflection of my own relentless search for the light within. I have so much. I enjoy so much - in the hours I am alone and those I share with good people. I have so much.
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